


im your lover, im your zero

by pxraxise



Series: if you go chasing rabbits [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/F, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, THERE'S ALOT TO UNPACK HERE, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxraxise/pseuds/pxraxise
Summary: in which you can read the journal entries of a sexually confused sniper and her comments on society and balancing life and death.
Relationships: Anastasia Lychovka/Alina Orlova, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: if you go chasing rabbits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650625
Comments: 16
Kudos: 13





	1. she calls me stazi

**Author's Note:**

> this is the prelude to my world war 2 writing project.

I should start off this page with saying how cold it has been, and how the Stuka sirens haven't left my head, even though they haven't been in reality since Moscow. 

I won't, because that would take too much time, and I should be asleep, fresh for the morning and begin again to kill from above or wherever my rifle leads me. 

I feel weak, admittedly, around those of my peers. I talk little, but I follow orders and I think on my feet, I meet the expectations of others perfectly, and yet I feel lacking.   
It's this feeling that brought me here, writing in this journal.

  
I never quite understood the purpose of such a tool, until I found myself an enlisted woman and staring in the eyes of Death each time a German is spotted. 

This journal has kept me going through Moscow to here, where I defend Stalingrad with every fiber that i'm aware of in my body.   
However, as of perhaps ~~**early**~~ late, there has been something else to stop me from dying, getting blown up, or otherwise ~~**killing myself**~~

It's not right, it's not what's meant for us, but I found myself here, liking a woman.   
Her name is Alina, and I have cried with her in the trenches, many nights ago.   
I fear I might have already scared her away, or she isn't as sinful as me. 

The only reason I bring her up in this journal, that could be found and confiscated, is because she sleeps next to me for tonight.   
I won't try her, she doesn't deserve me, and she doesn't deserve a woman. Nobody does. 

I am an incredibly stupid person, and I will die when the krauts decide I do, and this journal will die with me. 

I am in a world of shit, and she calls me Stazi. 


	2. nobody has noticed

It's been a rather long day, I write this as Alina is scouting out for me, and she hasn't ever disappointed me.   
The only time she disappoints me is when I don't have her attention.  
My knees hurt, and we lost four of ours today, but I took those losses in stride, because we took more from the Germans.

My facade is practiced, it has been since I was born, with my family. It works with the others, but I have a feeling Alina knows more than she allows me to understand, aside from my episode of crying in the trenches. 

It terrifies me, the thought of her knowing me as much as I know myself, but it gives me a certain tranquilty, trust, that under the pretense she did, she would help me.

I haven't heard anyone call me Stazi until she did, and it soothes me. I was never one for pet names, but she doesn't know that. 

I hate that I like her. Why can't I just be normal? 

One of the boys, Dostyev, tried to hit on me and touch me while I was changing, saying that a woman should be submissive to her man.

Nobody has noticed he's gone missing. 


	3. the only time

Sure, it's a good coping tool, but I've grown to sometimes hate this journal. 

It's the only time i'm honest with myself. 

I fucking hate this war, myself, and life in general.   
It's a funny kind of irony, I hate things yet I love them in the same token. 

  
I hate that I love her. 


	4. unlike her, i am stupid

I write this in a foxhole, the Germans have started an aerial strike, and I fear this could be the last entry I make.   
For this reason, as I feel the tremors in the dirt around me, I'll write about her.  
I have nothing to lose, if i'm buried alive in here, atleast my comrades won't find this journal.  
She is the most beautiful woman I've met, she has dark brown eyes, and a button nose that urges it's attention.  
Her hands are soft, and her fingers resemble those of a pianist, elegant, and slender.   
Her body is more alluring than any man could be, while they are stout, broad, and lack a curvature in their body—she is akin to fantasy, and I hope, if she could ever allow me, I would have the privilege of exploring it.

She is a flower in a sea of thorns, I cherish her greatly.

Her personality is one of a kind, she's shy, meek, yet almost never wavering when it comes to our teamwork.  
She is a playful one, and she knows how to make someone laugh loud enough to attract a Stuka pilot from 50 miles away.   
She's incredibly smart, smarter than me, both academically and in combat.   
When we have time, and there isnt imminent danger, we have the wildest yet most fun conversations, and she always manages to open my eyes in them, somehow.

I admire her greatly, she's everything I want to be. 

And yet, unlike her, I am stupid, for I long for something I could never have.   
I am much like a child, perhaps because at 22, I most certainly am one. 

Even if she was like me, what would the others say? 

Would they ostracize me, or just kill me?  
Maybe tell some superiors, get me discharged. 

The tremors have long since stopped, and I am still wasting time, writing down my thoughts on pieces of paper.

I'll have to check if Alina managed to find somewhere to hide out, I hope the various screams I heard weren't one of hers.


	5. always adorable

I feel as if I am being tested, I don't know how she does it.   
When she is bored, she picks at her fingernails or chews at her lip.   
It is ironic, I watch her when she's bored to entertain myself, her quirks are always adorable.


	6. i'm away from home

I recall the time Alina was shot.  
It was in the shoulder, it was a non-fatal wound, and it healed up okay.  
That, however, wasn't the point.

The Germans were rushing us, we were running out of ammo for our MG, and we made alot of lucky breaks (throwing back enemy grenades, finding good cover, etc,)  
Alina was lended a PPSH, she made good use of it, she was always resourceful. 

I still had my Mosin, and I wasn't in any perches, but that didn't make me shoot slower or any worse, I quite enjoy being in the heat of the moment, when it occurs.  
However, this was not a joyful time for long (or ever, but i digress)

  
As I shot one in the abdomen, hoping to bleed him out so some of his friends could come out, I hear a yelp, and the telltale noise that an MP40 makes.  
While I heard bullets riddling concrete and/or other structures, I turned to the noise to find her bleeding, curling up behind cover with her gun dropped by her. 

She got out of cover to return fire at the wrong time, and the image, still even as I write, is mortifying to think of.   
I wouldn't ever want her hurt. 

But it happens, and it did, and I still hear the MP40.   
I turned back rather quickly, spotting the cocksucker who shot her. 

  
He was not graced with a quick death.

I felt my palm sore at the friction against the metal, and my precious rifle must have feared for it's life, as I shoved the bolt in and out rather roughly, and quickly.

  
I shot him three times, and I felt a sting behind my eyes, I didn't realize until after the attempted siege, when Vosnak told me that I growled like a animal getting annoyed at its prey.

If that fucker survived, he can no longer walk nor have sex for the rest of his life. 

  
Her wound was tended to, and I'd be a very bad liar if I said, even if it was just a shoulder, I wasn't extremely worried.

The situation felt despondent enough, having to deal with the mere chance that Alina were to die, while taking gunfire, has to be the worst thing I've experienced in my life. 

Well, second worst.  
My mother allowed my father to have his way with me, shouting profanities at me. 

  
Anyway, it was a rather stressful situation.

I'm so glad, in this moment, I'm away from home.


	7. clouds

It's a shame, the clouds are no longer meant for gazing but instead, to outline incoming planes.

I wish we had clouds to stare at. 


	8. i hate to see you go but i love to watch you leave

I hate boys.

They are rude, crude, disgusting and terribly insensitive, plus they lack good looks and worry about petty or unnecessary matters. 

It is thanks to Alina that I have vaguely been involved in the going-on of our group, and I feel as if I have missed out on nothing.

Nothing positive, anyway. 

The few women here are much better to be around, but have their own set of issues that equally discomfort and irritate me. 

Alina falls into neither group, and that's probably why I like her. 

As the boys say, 

"I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave." 


	9. made for television

Kobrechev hid the soap from Elieza and a fight broke out between the two.   
It reminds me of how stressed we are, and our fear and need for survival overpowers humor.  
Nonetheless, I'm disappointed in both parties, who has time to hide soap for a joke? Who has the energy to argue when you could simply move on? 

It's childish, and I feel like every social interaction I witness is artificial, fabricated, made for television.   
The only way to cancel the show is to fire the cast, and I'd almost do that myself, but the Nazis do that for us.

I'm going fucking nuts.


	10. another type of relief

I do so deeply hope to the nonexistent God above that nobody finds this, for the contents that I will pour out unto this page should never be known or even remembered, especially in the environment I put myself in.

With that out there to nobody in particular but myself, Alina is my everything. 

When there is banter amongst the team, I just listen and agree with whatever she says or thinks, even if it's something I don't know.

She's smarter than she thinks.

When she spots Germans for me, I take great care to not have the rifle bump her, she doesn't deserve my reckless and fast movements to kill a Nazi to hurt her.

Whenever she is asleep next to me, I don't toss and turn, and instead just find myself asleep peacefully. 

She's a mediator in my head and life, and I hate being this codependent on a person.

I hate that I'm attracted to her.

I hate how her gaze falls upon me, how my heart quickens and I feel unsteady and dizzy, as if I was drugged.

I hate my imagination when it comes to her, and I hate it much more when it's right.

My hand itches to touch her around the dip of her waist, her thin body screaming to my terribly primitive mind that it's okay. 

I have to mother myself, and slap myself on the wrist each time.

There's another type of relief when we eventually switch buildings to camp out in, and there's just the perfect area to rid of all prohibited impulses and indulge.


	11. when it comes to alina

I had an odd dream of dying the other day, and the Kraut who shot me was Alina.

I don't know what it means, or if it has any meaning at all, but it's concerning.

I don't like being concerned when it comes to Alina.


	12. god, i really must be stupid.

When will this goddamn war end? 

It's always been there, the emotions of it all, but now I just think of going AWOL all the time. 

I want to take her with me, we can run together, maybe.

Maybe we can live far far away, away from this. 

Have a nice home, just her and I. 

We won't need to be running or barely getting any sleep. 

A tranquil life. 

God, I really must be stupid.


End file.
